


Father of the Year

by buggy_writes



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, dad tony stark, gender neutral reader, im evil i know, okay i did cry when i wrote this but im not sorry, you'll like it i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buggy_writes/pseuds/buggy_writes
Summary: Five times you jokingly call him Dad, and one time you mean it.
Relationships: Tony Stark & Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Father of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry

1\. You're doing schoolwork with Peter, working on a project together and breezing through it, but the longer effects of a cold are stuck to you like glue. You didn't have a rapid-fire immune system, you stressed yourself sick more often than not. Your powers, while helpful to the team, took a toll on your physical health. For every person you healed, you caught something. Your head sags, drops a good three inches, and then you're up again. Peter tries to tell you to go rest, he can finish up, but you gracefully ignore him. You do, though, go to the kitchen for juice. Tony is there, slicing up some strange fruit, and when he sees you, he drops his knife and presses a hand to your head. Too warm, he frowns, eyes lit with a worry you're unfamiliar with. You turn too fast, vision goes fuzzy, and you fall. He catches you, calls for Peter, and when you come too a few minutes later, you laugh at yourself. Tony presses a box of cold medicine into your hands, you glance at the label and hum, "Thanks, Dad."

2\. An event, too formal for your liking, right up Tony's alley. Pepper put it together, so you know it's a work of art, but your clothes are stiff and the room is stuffy. Peter is gone for the week, back to see Aunt May. You've been filling your time playing video games and ignoring the assignments your tutor is stressed about, but right now you're considering claiming an essay due if it means getting you home and in bed, wrapped up in expensive sheets you're starting to grow accustomed to. You make your way around the room, smiling and shaking hands when need be, and when a cute server walks past with a tray, you snag their attention. It's mostly easy to flirt, a smile here, and laugh there, and then you're offered a glass of chardonnay. You get one sip before Tony is plucking it from your hands, you know better. No alcohol on a school night. "Well maybe tell Pepper to stop planning these events on Tuesdays, Dad."

3\. Steve- Captain Rogers? Steve. Uncle Steve suggests training, you agree. He tries to teach you how to throw a proper punch without hurting your wrist, you end up in a wrist brace. He enlists Bucky, who for some reason, he thinks can help. All the years taking care of pre-serum Steve, maybe? Bucky, for what it's worth, manages to teach you how to defend yourself from a basic attack. You won't be stopping Peter or any super soldiers any time soon, will never be able to fight like Natasha, but you can hold your own until someone comes to help. That's what counts. When put to the test, you break one nose before you tear up at the pain in your hand, it shoots up into your arm and radiates all over your body. Steve knows Tony will have his head. Luckily, things don't come to blows. They shout, Bucky makes popcorn and brings you a bag of frozen peas for your hand as you watch the two Type A's in their pissing contest until Tony looks you in the eye and forbayes you from leaving the quinjet on missions. You pout for three days, and every time you see him, you stick your tongue out at him. It's less intimidating when you have a neon green cast on your wrist, though. Sam whistled loud when he sees it, questions how it happened, and all you say is, "My dad is an overprotective butthead."

4\. In all fairness, it wasn't a school night. You went with Peter to a party, drank too much, and now you hate life. Friday requests Tony's presence in the bathroom of yours and Peter's shared wing, and if you could, you might fight her. You're curled on the floor, blanket pulled tight around you and lights dimmed. An acidic stench, a whimper, and Tony is gently scolding you. He sits with you, runs your back and wipes your mouth, provides small sips of water so you can rinse your mouth before drinking some electrolyte-filled smoothie provided by Pepper, and kisses your head. It's the most affectionate thing you've ever let him do, your broken and bruised past always making you shy away from physical affection. When you have some more color to your face, he pinches your cheek and you smack at him, "Isn't my Dad supposed to teach me not to do shit like this?" You grumble, glaring when he snorts and says that sometimes, you learn best by experience.

5\. It's Father's Day, and you have joined forces with Peter to make the most excessive gift ever. A scrapbook, filled to the brim with images of you, Peter, and Tony. Two golden certificates announcing your "adoption" by Tony and Pepper, a jest for Peter and a fact for you. Legally, he was your guardian. It didn't mean you couldn't joke about it, though. Stories of Tony's best Dad moments, media pictures of him and Pepper, everything you could find to glue in, you did. Natasha managed to find baby pictures of you and Peter, Steve donated a fan photo of Peter catching Bucky's metal fist (you wrote "Baby's First Fight" in gold cursive letters above it), and on the last page was a picture of all four of you, plus Aunt May and Happy, at Tony's most recent birthday. Upon gifting it to Tony, he cried. Of course, should anyone ask, it was just allergies, but you and Peter knew. Later, after a family dinner, Tony comes to you and pulls you in for a tight hug. He thanks you, prompting you to shrug, "Yeah, well, don't mention it, Dad of the Year."

6\. When the Snap happened, your world broke. You watched as friends and family turned to dust, screaming and clawing for a way to get them back. Steve vanished. The only person you had left was Pepper. She tried so hard, to be what you needed, but she couldn't understand the anger you felt at not being able to save anyone. Your powers were meant for it, to heal and revive, and now there you were, stuck. The day that Tony came back, you sobbed and clung to him. You had him back, you had Pepper, and it would never be enough, but it had to be. Eventually, you packed up your things and moved to the cabin with them. You welcomed Morgan into the world- so many YouTube videos and shoving Tony out, a bond was formed between you and Pepper as you helped her bring a child into the world. It was good. Morgan cried, you swiped a hand over her head and could quiet her crying, or at least tell Tony and Pepper what she needed. You missed Peter every day, fought with Tony, yelled and screamed until Pepper demanded you both cool off. It all changed when Steve came back. He drove up to the cabin and you could have cried. If Steve was here, he had a plan. And it worked, mostly. Peter is back, confused and disoriented, but back. Everyone is back. Almost everyone. By the time you found Tony on the battlefield, it was almost too late. He had a dead-set look about him, everyone around him watching as he held up a hand. With a blood-curdling scream, you threw yourself at him as he snapped. His body fell and you placed your hands on his chest, focusing all of your energy into him. The team around you had no clue what to do, watching you come to life and glow bright white. Steve tried pulling you away, you refused to budge, doubling down and pouring every ounce of your power into your father. The man who, for all intents and purposes, raised you.

It happens in a flash of energy. You're thrown from him, body clanging several feet away. Pepper and Peter scramble to his side, cradling him and making sure he's okay. He jolts awake, gasping for breath and looking around frantically. He spots your body and rushes to your side, brushing the dirt off your face and swiping at the blood coming from your nose. Slowly, you blink at him. He's saying something, probably yelling at you for doing what you did, but the blood is settling in your throat and trickling out of your mouth. Carefully, you take his hand and struggle for one final quip, "You owe me one, okay, Pops?"

And then, you're gone.

**Author's Note:**

> im not sorry


End file.
